The Lucky Ones
by Enige-iets
Summary: It's easy as an outsider to say 'they were lucky to survive', but were they really? Do they feel lucky? Or do they feel as though they shouldn't be here? As thought the lucky one should have been someone else? How does it feel to be a lucky one? If you even count as lucky at all... WARNING Possible lemons, brutal scenes and anguish ahead. Enter at your own peril. NOT HAPPY.


_**A/N:**__  
_Thought I ought to give you a little warning, this is not going to be pretty. Firstly, my writing is crap atm because I've not done it in a while and Secondly, this is a pretty rough subject to be dealing with.

WARNING! No fairytale endings in this one chaps, so either set yourself up for some hurt, or back away carefully.

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The Lucky Ones.

"Onii-tan!" Ozma turned from the stove to look down at the girl clinging to his apron strings. "You didn't do them up!"

He chuckled; it was just the sort of thing he didn't bother with, apron strings… "Then you do them for me."

"Mou…" She made the noise with a frown on her face and a pout that could have put a thousand fluffy little ducklings to shame. His little sister was so cute. She tied the strings tightly around his back, as tight as she could get them by the feel of it.

"Ranka!" He reprimanded with a chuckle, "I'll be cut in half!"

The joke was met with an unhappy face. Ah, a boo-boo. She turned away and stalked out of the kitchen, collecting her teddy from the doorway on the way through and a few moments later he heard the door of her bedroom shut with a soft _click_. With a sigh, Ozma turned back to his cooking and gave the bacon a poke with his fork. The trouble was that he didn't think very much about making jokes on grisly subjects, never had, it was one of the ways you coped with the reality of what could happen. But Ranka was much more sensitive than he was to these things. It bothered her when he expressed his need for food – "Ah, me stomach thinks me throat's been cut!" – or if he accidently caught himself with the cheese grater or the bread knife – "It'll probably have to be amputated now…" – or even just a friendly goodnight – "Sleep tight, don't let the bed-hydra bite."

He wanted her to have the same childhood that he had – or what was left of it anyway. But the simple phrases he never thought anything of when he was a child struck a much deeper cord with her than they ought to. This latest careless comment was one of many boo-boos he'd made that day. He was more desperate than ever to make sure she had a happy life, but things just didn't seem to be going his way. Which was why…

The phone began to ring in the living room, shrill and unexpected it made him jump and a whole two rashers of bacon leapt out of the pan and made a nose-dive for the floor. He swiped at them with the fork but missed and they tumbled to their fate without his help. Rolling his eyes he turned off the gas and dumped the fork on the side before leaving to go and get the phone before it shouted his ears off.

"Hello, this is the Lee Resi-"

"Ozma!" Kathy's voice sounded in his ear, "No need to sound so glum, if you didn't want me to call you could have said!"

"No, no, Kathy!" Ozma immediately perked up, wiping his hand off on his apron and unconsciously reaching to check his hair was ok despite the fact the woman couldn't see him. "Of course I want you to call! I just wasn't expecting it was all!"

"Well we said last night…" She sounded a bit disappointed. Damn. Of course, last night she'd offered to call him and he'd accepted readily, he'd just forgotten about it. But hell, it was late last night, he was tired – he'd barely made it to his bed before collapsing on it, kicking his clothing off half-heartedly before sleep claimed him – how was he expected to remember something so small as an incoming phone call.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just a bit distracted with Ranka and breakfast so…"

"Breakfast? But it's 1600 hours!"

He looked at the clock, fuck, so it was… He gave a nervous chuckle, "What can I say? You kept me up all night…"

A soft laugh. "That was _your_ suggestion, Captain."

"I know…" A dusting of pink across his cheeks and nose.

"So," She adopted a more business-like tone, "I've compiled the reports of the 117th fleet incident and the only one that's missing is yours, Ozma."

"Really? Only mine?" He cast a glance out at the blue, blue sky and heaved a sigh, "I guess there weren't that many to collect after all, were there…"

"No… But I need to hand in the completed report file to my- to the president in a week tomorrow. I know you want more time, but I'm afraid that's all I can give you... It's not like you to leave a report this long, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Kathy."

"I know you refused the psychiatrist but-"

"I don't need a damn shrink!" He snapped. The other end of the phone was quiet save for the gentle sounds of her breathing against the mouthpiece. He sighed again – something he'd been doing a lot recently – and ran a hand over his face, feeling the lines of his face to be much sharper than they used to be. Damn, he was getting old. "I just… Just need you."

There was nothing from the other end of the line and he sighed heavily, gazing out the window at the endless blue. It went on forever, unperturbed by anything but the glass that kept them all inside, trapped like bugs in a specimen jar. The only escape was a plane, a VF that would take him far away, fly like a bird for him from here to his dreams… But he wasn't sure he would ever want to pilot one of those again.

"Would you mind having dinner here tonight?"

"There?" She sounded apprehensive, "Don't you have a child from the incident-"

"She's fine, she doesn't remember anything from then. As far as she and I are concerned, she's my sister. That's all she needs to know."

"Then would it be alright? I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable."

"No, that's fine, hang on." He left the living room and knocked softly on Ranka's door, hearing the patter of feet, he pushed open the door and bent to her level.

"We'll be having someone for dinner with us tonight, Ranka-chan, ok?" The little girl nodded, looking a little solemn, but she nodded none the less and that was all the acceptance Ozma needed. "She's fine with it," He said, straightening up and ruffling the little girl's bright green hair. It was soft like a kitten's fur beneath his fingers, just as cute as she was.

"Well alright, but I won't be able to stay for long." Kathy said, still sounding a little apprehensive about it. "I have to meet with my father early tomorrow morning about the medical results, _those_ at least I can report to him already."

"No, I understand." Ozma nodded, heading off to the kitchen with Ranka in tow, "I'll need to get Ranka off to sleep early tonight too, I think she had a bit of a late one last night." This was confirmed as the little girl yawned, her mouth opening so wide for a moment it looked as though she would dislocate her jaw, or simply split down the middle.

"What time would you like me?"

He choked back a response of 'right now' and instead replied "How does 1915 hours sound to you?"

"I'll see you then, Captain."

He pressed the red button with another sigh and put the phone down on the counter. He didn't turn around for a long while, but when he did he made sure it was with a smile on his face. "So, Ranka-chan, what do you want for dinner?"

"Tamago, onegai!"

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**_A/N:_**

The next chapter will be up soon... the wee hours of the morning if I get it done right...


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